


Four Times Aziraphale Needed a Nap and One Time He Slept on His Own Terms

by chaos_ineffable



Series: Good Omens 30th Anniversary [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, M/M, aziraphale needs a nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_ineffable/pseuds/chaos_ineffable
Summary: Aziraphale may be an angel but even ethereal beings need to rest sometimes.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens 30th Anniversary [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729684
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	Four Times Aziraphale Needed a Nap and One Time He Slept on His Own Terms

**Author's Note:**

> This is a day late but it's done and that's all that matters, right?
> 
> The prompt is 'Force'.

-1-

The first time Aziraphale slept was after the Flood. 

He had been allowed more than enough miracles to keep Noah and his kin alive until the waters subsided but the animals proved harder to maintain than anyone in Heaven could have predicted. Even with the help of a certain demon, Aziraphale used at least twice as much magic than he had been allowed. By the time they stepped off the Ark, he was exhausted. And apparently doing a poor job hiding it.

“Angel, you look terrible,” Crowley commented, circling Aziraphale and looking him up and down.

Aziraphale gritted his teeth and reminded himself the demon had just assisted with Heavenly matters. “You keep an entire family and their boatload of animals alive for a year and see how you look.” 

Crowley raised an amused eyebrow. He had seen Aziraphale’s snippier side a time or two but the angel had never been quite this rude. He was curious how far he could push before Aziraphale would leave in a fuss.

Before Crowley got a chance to test the angel’s limits, Aziraphale was taking a calming breath and continuing, “Apologies, Crowley. I suppose I am a bit off. I’m sure a drink and something tasty will put me to rights. What do you say?”

“Not much else going on. May as well.” Crowley gestured towards where Noah and his family were checking on the animals, “Think this lot will be alright?”

Aziraphale watched the family wander through the herds of animals. “Yes, I think so. It was God’s plan for them to repopulate, after all. Let’s go find some food.” He took a step and crumpled to the ground.

“Aziraphale! Satan, are you alright?” Crowley’s voice sounded far away and his face was blurry when it came into view. “Angel? Can you hear me? Angel!”

Aziraphale reached up and floundered for Crowley’s cheek, missing a couple times before patting the demon’s face. “I’m quite alright,” he tried to say but the words jumbled together and fell from his mouth like boulders. 

Crowley grumbled something and sat by the angel, crossing his legs and pulling Aziraphale’s head into his lap. “Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

The angel tried to argue, tried to push himself back to his feet and away from his enemy, but his body ignored him. Crowley started running long fingers through pale curls and- oh, that felt rather nice. He found himself drifting away, a wave of love surrounding him as he slept.

-2-

The second time he slept was at the end of the second World War.

He had spent most of his time at the front lines, spreading hope and good will to the troops. He performed as many miracles as he could get away with to keep these men alive, from minor healings to stop the bleeding long enough for a life-saving suture to changing the trajectory of bullets. 

When he was in London, he followed efforts to spy on the Germans and helped where he could. Of course, that eventually lead to his near untimely demise and a demolished church, but the Nazis were dead so it couldn’t be all that bad. 

Then Crowley saved his books and he realized feelings he had been avoiding for a very long time.

It happened weeks after the war ended. He remembered locking the shop doors and settling at his desk for some much needed inventorying. Next thing he knew, he was stretched out on the couch, his head cradled in a familiar lap. 

“What…” he sat up, dislodging Crowley’s arm from where it had been resting on Aziraphale’s chest, “What am I doing on the couch? When did you get here?”

Crowley looked around at everything except Aziraphale, his fingers taking up a nervous tapping against his thigh. “Well, I got here ‘bout an hour ago. You were all slouched over at your desk.” He waved his arm wildly in the direction of Aziraphale’s desk. “Didn’t look comfortable at all, so I moved you.”

“And you just had to sit on the couch with me, did you?”

His shoulders slinking up to his ears, Crowley hissed, “You only have one couch, angel. Where else was I going to sit?”

Aziraphale ignores the urge to point at the comfy armchair across from them, instead patting Crowley’s arm. “Of course. How silly of me. Thank you for the assistance, my dear. I have no doubt I would have regretted falling asleep at my desk if you hadn’t come along.”

“Don’t thank me,” Crowley growled, then his voice softened and a hint of worry entered his expression. “Just stop pushing yourself so hard, yeah? It’s not healthy to burn the candle at both ends all the time.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale huffed, standing and straightening his bowtie, “I am an angel. My metaphorical candle is eternal. It is impossible for me to burn out. Oh, but speaking of burning, have you seen that little restaurant down the street? I’ve heard they make splendid crème brûlée!”

-3-

The third time is five years after becoming Brother Francis.

Warlock proved to be a difficult child. A sweetheart, most of the time. But when Nanny wasn’t around, Aziraphale often found himself searching for ways to distract the boy from tearing up flowers and stomping on bugs. He couldn’t imagine how Crowley must feel at the end of the day. It only a took a few hours of watching Warlock to wear Aziraphale out. 

After their fifth year of dedicated service, Crowley and Aziraphale were allowed a week vacation. Aziraphale assumed Crowley was going to spend it sleeping. He, on the other hand, was going to get caught up on his reading. He rarely had time for such things while playing the gardener, so this week would be a lovely reprieve. 

He settled into his favorite chair, opened his book, and promptly dozed off.

He woke up six days later to Crowley snapping fingers in front of his face. 

“Satan, angel, didn’t realize gardening wore you down that much.” The fiendish snake smirked. “Are you ready to admit that I should have been the gardener?”

Aziraphale blinked the sleep from his eyes and yawned, stretching his arms to either side. The movement jostled the book on his chest and it thumped to the floor. He stared at it sadly for a moment before remembering Crowley was there. “You’re still better with children than I am. I stand by my claim that I should be the gardener.”

Crowley pouted but recovered quickly, brandishing a bottle of wine and flopping onto the couch. “Thought we could spend our last free day getting absolutely shitfaced.”

Aziraphale looked back at his book and sighed. He wasn’t going to get much reading done anyway. He reached for the bottle.

-4-

The fourth time Aziraphale slept was after the Apocalypse.

Crowley’s flat was cold and bare and very grey. They shuffled to the couch and fell onto it. Aziraphale groaned. It was a horrible couch. Not soft at all. “Why do you insist on being uncomfortable, my dear? Wouldn’t it be better to have a couch you can sit on?”

Crowley waved his hand and grunted something about aesthetic. But the couch changed from rock hard to unbearably soft.

Aziraphale hummed and wiggled to a more comfortable position. He turned to Crowley, planning to ask if the demon had anything to drink. He was already asleep, elbow perched on the arm of the couch, head resting on his bent wrist. It didn’t look very comfortable.

Aziraphale slid closer and arranged the demon so his head was resting in Aziraphale’s lap. Then, with one hand running through auburn hair, he studied the final prophecy of Agnes Nutter.

He didn’t even realize he was falling asleep until the singed paper slipped from his fingers. He jolted awake, shushing Crowley when the demon grumbled, and snatched the prophecy back. He blinked hard and stared intently at the paper. Against his will, his eyes began to flutter shut. He tried to keep them open, to keep analyzing the prophecy, but he was so tired.

The paper fluttered to the floor, he slouched against Crowley’s bony shoulder, and he slept.

He was jostled awake by Crowley leaping to his feet. “Angel! I think I figured out the prophecy!”

-5-

The fifth time Aziraphale slept was in a little cottage in the South Downs.

Crowley was on the porch watching the sun sink below the horizon. Aziraphale wandered out to stand behind him and wrapped his arms around his partner’s skinny waist. He kissed behind Crowley’s ear and hummed when the demon leaned against him.

“I’m glad we moved out here, angel. It’s nice.”

“Mm, it is. Just like you.”

Crowley hissed but didn’t fight it. He had ceded that point long before they left London. He patted Aziraphale’s arms where they were wrapped around him and turned in the angel’s hold. “Time for bed?”

Aziraphale held him tighter and peppered his face with kisses. “Time for bed. You can wear the pajamas I bought today.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose. “The tartan ones? I thought those were for you.”

Aziraphale winked and pressed a quick kiss to Crowley’s lips. “You’ll look lovely in them, darling. Absolutely scrumptious.”

“If I had known you have a tartan fetish, I wouldn’t have married you, you bastard.”

“Yes, you would have,” Aziraphale laughed and placed one final kiss on his partner’s nose. “You don’t have to wear them tonight but I will convince you one of these days.”

Crowley grumbled his disagreement and let Aziraphale lead him to their bedroom. They slipped into bed and Crowley wrapped around his husband, burying his face in Aziraphale’s neck and falling asleep almost immediately. 

Aziraphale took a little longer. He stroked Crowley’s back and pet his hair, listened to his even breathing, his slow heartbeat, and fell asleep surrounded by Crowley’s love.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments! Thanks for reading!


End file.
